


Fucking Blasphemy

by NotSoMetalKnightmare



Series: vent your feelings, open the vents, like an insect, your body has holes [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blasphemy, Hatred, Religion, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotSoMetalKnightmare/pseuds/NotSoMetalKnightmare
Summary: She's never held him in high regards





	Fucking Blasphemy

**Author's Note:**

> If u like god, or believe in him or whatever, then that's ok. But I've got some conflicting feelings about the whole thing

Sometimes she wonders why she's like this  
She fears, but she has no true troubles

Perhaps she was made wrong?

"Maybe," she whispered, alone one night  
"There is a God, and dear god, did that God stumble!"  
"He was making me-"  
"-maybe making me quick-"  
"-and perhaps he didn't have much care."

She pondered this for awhile

She lay still, curled in on herself  
Like a flower wanting to unbloom

It was a terrible thing, this horrid thought  
That a God could exist, and he felt no love

But the more she thought  
The more it made sense

What sort of thing breaks itself  
That wasn't made already broken somewhat?

Or - maybe more commonly -  
Such a thing is in a world that is broken

Forming breaks over time

And if there were breaks in the world  
And breaks in the people 

Why the fuck  
Hadn't God fixed it?

"Freedom?"  
"Liberty?"

It sounded less and less likely

Never had had misfortune truly struck her  
(Despite her sniveling soul)

But again and again  
And again and again and again and a-fucking-gain!

She saw others hurt

Why

That wasn't freedom  
There were those who were enslaved

That wasn't liberty   
There were those who were trapped

They suffered

She knew they didn't deserve heaven,  
A paradise, or utopia

But how hard would it be  
To show some fucking heart?

What was stopping him

Was he scared?  
That like parasites, they would use needles and mouths to suck out his life-blood?  
That his flesh would be unflinchingly peeled from his bone until he was a skeleton?  
That their machines might come and dice him up, so he'd be the last supper?

If so, there was a reason why they'd be so ruthless and hungry 

They've been starving.

 

 

 

Her eyelids drooped, the weight of hatred pulling her down  
Somber dreams of gnawing on the bones of the galaxies greeted her in bed 

She slept coldly  
Like a corpse, bloated with something ugly

If she were to one day burst  
She reckoned that she'd be happy to taint the world

**Author's Note:**

> purple prose


End file.
